The beast crouched low, breath ragged and uneven. Blood dripped from its flank in steady pulses. Its fur was torn, one leg trembling, muscles twitching with residual energy—trying to vibrate again, to vanish, but failing.
Sid stepped forward.
Krixi moved with him—mist curling softly, threads winding around his arm like silver trails of thought.
Her scythe lifted.
One move. That was all it would take.
The beast locked eyes with Sid, lips peeled back in a snarl that faltered halfway. There was still fire in its gaze—but also something else. Recognition. It had fought. Survived. And now, it waited for judgment.
Sid felt the threads tighten around his fingers.
Krixi read his posture, his intent. One thought would be enough.
But he didn't give it.
Instead… he lowered his hand.
Krixi halted mid-motion, blade hovering just inches from the beast's throat. The mist slowed. The jungle held its breath.
Sid exhaled.
"No," he murmured. "That's enough."
The threads stilled.
The beast blinked—uncertain. Its muscles tensed, ready to counter.
But Sid didn't move. His eyes held no fear. No command. Just calm.
"You've shown what you are," he said quietly. "And so have we."
Krixi slowly withdrew, returning to his side. Her scythe faded into mist and thread. She didn't question. She trusted.
The beast watched them both, breath heavy, blood trailing. It took one slow, uncertain step back.
Then another.
And another.
It didn't turn away—
Not at first.
But after a long pause… it did.
And it disappeared into the jungle, limping, fading into moss and shadow.
A long silence followed.
The scouts stepped forward slowly.
The Tarnak'hul scout was the first to speak, his voice quiet but firm. "You could've killed it. You earned that right."
Sid nodded. "I know."
Dianna crossed her arms, watching him. "So why didn't you?"
Sid looked down at his hands, the threads now fully withdrawn—calm. Quiet.
"I didn't need to prove anything else," he said. "Not to it. Not to you. Not even to myself. This is enough."
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn. First you fight like hell, now you pull the 'wise warrior' act? You're growing up fast."
The Tarnak'hul scout let out a low, pleased grunt. "Mercy after victory. That's harder than the kill."
Dianna gave Sid a long look—part challenge, part respect. "That wasn't weakness. That was a true display of strength. Well done."
Sid smiled faintly. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by something quieter.
Not pride.
Not power.
Satisfaction.
He turned to Krixi, who stood beside him, silent. Her vents released a slow breath of green mist.
She had followed his will. Matched his rhythm.
And then… followed his restraint.
> She understood.
They hadn't just fought together.
They had chosen together.
For the first time, Sid realized: this bond wasn't control.
It was trust.
Between thread and thought.
Between weapon and will.
Between him and her.
---
The Tarnak'hul scout stepped forward, casting one last glance at the clearing where the beast had disappeared into the green.
"First real combat with your partner," he said, voice like gravel wrapped in smoke. "You handled it well. But we've got more ahead. Let's move. Still need to catch up with the first team."
Ethan let out a low whistle, cracking his neck. "Right. Sid's done showing off. Now I want to see what really lives out here. Lava snakes? Flying badgers? Maybe a talking root with anger issues?"
Dianna sighed audibly. "Don't push your luck, boar. Watching from the sidelines got my hands itching."
Ethan grinned. "Come on—I'm just curious."
One of the scouts chuckled. "Don't worry, swordswoman. There'll be plenty of warm-ups before the sun gets tired."
Dianna rested a hand on her blade. "I'm counting on it."
The group moved out, boots pressing into damp moss and root-choked soil. The air thickened with each step—older, darker. They were descending into the jungle's deeper layers, where the canopy twisted tighter and the light broke into slivers.
The land bore scars.
Not fresh.
But deep.
Craters had filled with ferns. Splintered trunks fed entire mushroom colonies. Gouges in the earth—marks left by something ancient—had softened under vines, but not vanished.
History lived here.
And so did danger.
They weren't wandering blind. The path had been laid by the first scout team—the advance party. Experienced. Disciplined. But experience only carried so far in terrain like this.
Every few dozen meters, they found markers: symbols etched into bark, thread woven through branches, bones charred black and tucked into moss. Each one spoke: We passed here. Keep going.
The scouts paused at each, reading without speaking.
"They're still on course," one muttered. "So far."
"No signs of doubling back," another added. "Good. Or… it was."
Ethan glanced up at the dense canopy. "Hopefully they didn't find something that didn't want to be found."
They pressed on.
The jungle answered with its own trials—hunters from the trees, scaled beasts rising from swampy ground, things with too many eyes and no sense of fear. They struck fast. Fought smarter.
Krixi flowed through each fight like a phantom in mist. Dianna's blade sang. And Ethan—
Ethan's axe-cleaver swung with raw intent and ragged precision. Heavy, slightly curved, hungry for destruction—he wielded it like a brawler with battlefield instincts.
"Left side!" a scout barked.
A beast burst from the underbrush, claws wide.
Ethan didn't flinch.
He stepped in—met it mid-lunge—and brought the cleaver down with a crunch that cracked both skull and soil.
"Timing," he muttered, flicking blood from the edge, "is everything."
Still grinning, he added, "I should name this thing. Maybe 'Problem Solver.' Or… 'Therapist.'"
Dianna shot him a dry look. "You're really gonna name it that?"
He shrugged. "I might—"
His weapon let out a low, mechanical hum in protest.
"…Or not."
They scavenged what they could—venom sacs, boneplate organs, warm meat. What they didn't need, they burned. Nothing hungry would follow.
Then they heard it.
A sound that didn't belong.
Soft at first—almost lost beneath the hush of leaves and insect buzz.
But then it grew—clear, steady.
Rushing water.
The group stepped through a break in the foliage.
And the river came into view.
It spilled across the land like a wound of silver—wide and winding, fast over polished stones. Mist curled around its banks. The air was cooler. Cleaner.
"That's it," one scout said, pointing. "Checkpoint. We stopped here last before splitting off."
Ethan approached the bank, resting his weapon across his shoulders. "Nature's version of a save point. Hopefully not followed by a boss fight."
Dianna scanned the opposite shore. "No figures. No movement. I think we're clear."
"Markers are intact," another scout confirmed, nodding toward a red-thread knot tied low on a trunk. "Fresh. They should be nearby… We split here to deliver word to the chief."
Sid knelt by the edge, letting the river wash over his fingers. Krixi stood silent behind him, watching the trees.
Then—Sid froze.
He turned his head slightly.
"…Smoke."
The Tarnak'hul scouts tensed.
"Not wildfire," Dianna said, tone sharp. "No heat. No ash. Campfire."
"Which means people," Ethan muttered, lifting his cleaver. "Friends… or trouble."
They listened.
No voices. No rustle.
Just wind, water, and the faintest trace of burning wood.
Sid rose, threads curling around his wrist—not striking, just ready.
"The air tastes wrong… like the calm before a storm." said one of the Tarnak'hul quietly.
No one objected.
the river was deep. Too wide to wade.
The bridge—stone, moss-covered, exposed—offered the only way across. It was open. Vulnerable. A perfect place for an ambush.
And beyond, half-veiled by mist, an orange flicker glowed through the trees.
Steady.
Still.
Waiting.
Maybe a reunion.
Maybe something worse.